Crestfallen
by HaeraDimnne
Summary: How does it feel to be rendered powerless? When your so-called strength is no longer existent.


" _H_ ah, h _a_ , _h_ a–

 _ **As the dusk begins to settle its closure,**_

 _ **Not a soul was to be seen in this reigning departure.**_

* * *

 _There is only one thing that the said man couldn't comprehend._

 _Regardless if he were panting out of breath at the moment, nor was he running out of fear for death._

 _No._

 _It wasn't those things that plagued his current sentiments._

 _His renowned confidence._

 _His well-endowed strength._

 _All,_

 _Vanished in a sudden._

Twilight slowly dissipated off the firmament, consuming any illumination left within the nearing darkness. Everything had become inaudibly quiet. And perhaps, rather lifeless. The once lively streets were no longer occupied and the absence of the majority of its inhabitants seemingly added more fuel to the fire. It was now much alike of ghost town. Deserted, abandoned yet...

" _H_ ah–

Somewhat dangerous.

* * *

What lies inside this vicinity is ambiguous.

Urban legends are normal. Each city has their own story to tell, whether it is about heroic deeds nor made-up superstitious beliefs; those were plainly traditional. Although, these fallacies aren't underlying pretexts why people chose to stay away.

It is something more typical, especially for the human race.

 **Menace**

A mere, hollow repute can be damaging as a subjected guilty verdict in court. You will forever be perceived by uncertain claims, your very existence will be labelled and its restitution may take a lifetime to regain. Unless, of course, validated proofs are conveyed to alter those ingenious proclaims.

And the outcome may either be for the best, or worsen the shame.

" _H_ ah, h _a_ , _h_ a, h _ah."_

At a particular district, the usual chase inaugurates, however, in a different set of pace.

The sound possessed a binding mixture of desperation and exclusion. Torn between being confound at the situation he's in, and being livid of _what_ actually happened. Repeatedly, it resounded. Along with consequential treads which echoed torrents of strident rackets, veneering the thoughts that roamed around his head.

 _Impossible_

He ran, dashed, scrambled towards the remaining light despite having no destination in mind. Nothing else mattered as long as the fright would eventually subside, heaving out of his chest till it'll die. Nonetheless, such attempt was still proven futile.

Opted for another route, the man in clad-bartender suit shifted to a diverse track. An abrupt, volatile rotation sending him farther than he'd expect. Reasons forgotten, there wasn't a single coherent notion left. These were barely instincts, maneuvering each step, the respiration of his shaky breath to the most unnecessary movements, just to escape the fact–

That he was no longer intact.

 _Why now?_

Finally, he halted. Somewhere secluded, he used a wall as leverage, to ease the adrenaline, to steady the rhythm of his normal breathing. Unwary of the presence that will soon overwhelm him. "Tired already?" Footfalls ensued, his body frozen before stimulating into a quivering fit, his heartbeat palpitating at the familiarity he's hearing. "Shizu-chan."

Motions ceased, something akin to a scoff was released, subsequently proceeding to further travesty. "How pathetic."

Shizuo felt his insides twinge, chagrin surging within. "..." But did nothing to supplement inane atrocity.

Because the attempt would be utmost barren.

"Shouldn't you be happy instead?" It was more of a ridicule than a query. He knew, evidently, even without gazing at his perpetrator, that its apparition meant ruins. Both literally and figuratively.

"You got what you've always wanted." He didn't need to look up to see that vicious smile broadening.

Obliterating the remains of his dignity. "To be human."

 _Stop_

"Or so I contend."

Contours of shadow ranged over the shrouded terrain, an eerie premonition clogging up its surface.

By then he realized, the jury has been made.

Izaya snickered in place. "After all, without such power, you'd be the same as the others." Words spoken effortlessly like a noxious melody. "But that's not the case now isn't it?" Sung intended to befit this tragedy.

"For that strength was simply what outstands you from the rest." No, it wasn't a compliment. "A great, valuable asset you chose to detest because you yearn acceptance." Just the flowery speech-fest leading to mockery. "When the problem was never about your potency."

"Instead." He paused, adding more emphasis. "It was your temperament."

 _And fatal honesty_

 **Anger**

"It's funny how you wish to have a peaceful life while being the embodiment of violence."

"Remember the jobs you sabotaged? People you beaten up?"

 _Before and after we met_

"Collateral damages you caused?"

"Tell me, Shizuo."

 _No._

 _He refused to._

"Do you _actually_ believe you can obtain peace if you became normal?"

 _He refused–_

"With what you are as a human? In spite of _all_ the things you've done?"

No knife could ever stab him deeper than this one.

"Naive, little Shizu-chan. _"_

 _He refused to acknowledge the truth._

Nighttime has fallen, hope fading along the vestige of incandescence present as an ominous panic swept through his senses. Foreign voices resonated, accompanied by raging footsteps, burnished rims accentuating their sinister intent.

"Whatever happens next..."

His wiry frame became stagnant, immobile amongst the wretchedness that surrounds them, being the only thing clear to him were the whispers saying:

" _Will be on your hands._ " Then,

* * *

" **Have fun, Shizu-chan**."

* * *

Dilated pupils shot open.

" _H_ ah, h _a_ , _h_ a–

Sprawled out on the floor panting, Heiwajima Shizuo awoke in distress, wondering what led him into this circumstance.

He had a tiring day. Beating people who wouldn't pay their debt for a living isn't exactly what you call exhilarating, but it was indeed better than nothing. The usual routine, this time, however, make it quadruple the labor. Strength was never a problem. It's something that developed within him throughout the years and counting. Like a natural part of his existence. Despite that, he's still a human.

Hands clasped around his chest, the blond struggled to calm himself. He hastily eyed the surrounding, internally relieved in finding it was his dwelling as he heard cicadas singing. To think he'd lose consciousness without even closing the entrance is just as a fascinating discovery as getting robbed in the streets unknowingly. But then again, no one would have the guts to do it.

Almost immediately, a vague memory resurfaced.

 _It'll never happen._

"Tch..." Ire arising, he suppressed the will to punch the wall beside him. A nightmare with a flea in it? Disgusting. Though such belief couldn't eradicate the bewilderment it created. Disregarding the perturbed feeling, he stood up reluctantly and proceeded to what he should've done previously before collapsing at the doorstep. Completely ignoring the voice ringing inside his head.

 _It will never happen..._

 _It will never_ –


End file.
